


Regulations

by sister_coyote



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Character Study, Established Relationship, F/F, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-07
Updated: 2007-09-07
Packaged: 2017-10-06 19:08:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sister_coyote/pseuds/sister_coyote
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ross knows the regs aren't just there to make life difficult, and yet she cannot but break them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Regulations

There are a great many people who would sneer, dismiss the regulations against fraternization as archaic, unnecessary—or at least not necessary for _their_ situation. But Ross knows that the regs aren't just there to make life difficult. She's seen what happens when a relationship falls apart within the ranks (it's commoner than the brass would like to admit; everyone knows someone who did it, one time or another), and she knows that it's ugly—uglier still when it's within a single command structure. What's more, she knows that Hawkeye respects the rules. Doesn't always agree with them, occasionally disobeys them—but even so, only with careful consideration, with precautions taken, and when it is absolutely necessary. She's not much different,

This isn't necessary. Or rather, maybe it is, but not the way either she or Hawkeye would usually allow for. It isn't necessary, and yet somehow it's shifted from 'unacceptable risk' to 'do it, but carefully'—somehow, when she wasn't looking. It helps that they're both women; if one of them was a man (or even if they both were) someone would surely notice, sooner or later.

She knocks lightly, and Riza meets her at the door. (She has come to think of her as _Hawkeye_ in the context of work, but as _Riza_ here, where she is softened by the removal of the starched lines of her jacket, where her eyes are warm and welcoming.) It is past midnight; she had a break in her duties for supper some hours ago, and to judge by the scent of garlic and olive oil in the apartment Riza has eaten too. Just as well. She doesn't want food.

Riza is always beautiful but it is a different beauty now with her hair down, skinning out of her turtleneck and stretching out on the blankets, than it is in the office when she is the hard-fierce-beautiful of her bird of prey namesake. Ross kisses her, fumbling for the hooks of her bra, unfamiliar with opening them at this angle. The window-blinds are drawn up, and that is unwise, however unlikely it is that someone in an opposite apartment will chance to look, and see, and recognize. Still. She will shut them in a moment, when she is done drawing Riza's hair loose and silky over her fingers.

They stretch out a moment later with the blinds slanting dark shadows against skin; it has been nearly a week since their schedules synchronized even this much. Riza's skin is nearly white in the slats of moonlight but it is warm, warm against Ross's hands, just as her breasts and hips are soft and heavy. One might not expect that, having seen her only as Hawkeye, crisp and sharp, all angles and professionalism. Ross should not have seen this either, but yet she cannot regret it, not as Riza's hand strays between her legs and her mouth opens. For now it is good; it is enough.


End file.
